Two's Company, Three's a Crowd
by LeCastor
Summary: Actually happening in the comic silver age arc, more or less canon-compliant, Bruce and Selina make plans, but they obviously don't work out as hoped. POV: Alfred, Bruce, Selina, one each. One shot.


It wasn't going to be a big bash, Bruce Wayne assured Alfred. Just a couple hundred people, a few intimate friends, only ten courses, and of course, no need to order the orchestra – a band would be more than enough. After all, it was a small wedding, wasn't it?

Alfred had just sighed and wandered over to see to the bride.

"No, no, no," the bride was screaming in the plush room in which she and her party of five had been set up. "I will not have anything else than perfect white lillies," her voice pitched through the wall. Alfred sighed, again, and open the door.

"Ms. Kyle," he said tiredly, "is there something the matter?" He braced for impact.

"Of course there's something the matter, the florist will not send anything other than those stupid daisies."

Alfred had just enough time to duck before things got... well... worse and a priceless Ming vase met an untimely end against the door's frame.

"I will see to it, Ms. Kyle," he said again as he straightened back up and dusted his cuffs. His tone indicated absolute detachment.

"Good," she replied. "And send me the tailor. This dress is really uncomfortable!"

"Yes, of course, Ms. Kyle," Alfred replied, again, the poster gent for zen practice.

As he wandered down to his offices to make the necessary arrangements, Alfred Pennyworth hoped to himself that becoming Mrs. Wayne would calm Selina Kyle down. It was a slim, ridiculous and perfunctory hope, but it was there all the same. 

* * *

The music was only faintly discreet – the bride's dress – a slick dip of white on her slim figure – was perfect and looked, Bruce Wayne mused to himself, more comfortable than he expected. She certainly moved gracefully – catlike, Bruce Wayne thought with irony – in her husband's arms. The guests were taking a break, half-way through the allegedly light meal he had insisted on for his wedding reception. He was dancing with Selina Kyle, no longer Catwoman, thanks to an unexplained fit of amnesia. He had no regrets, though. Being able to bury his face between her breasts without worrying about her claws had been... a welcome relief.

Maybe now they would have peace, at last, Bruce thought to himself, almost derisively.

Nothing is ever perfect, though – no matter what Selina Kyle said, nothing is ever perfect. Batman knew well enough, and he sighed when he saw the bat-signal reflecting itself on a stray cumulonimbus. Nothing is ever perfect. There would be more broken China, tonight. It was a good thing Alfred had only put copies of the precious vases in Mrs. Wayne's room.

The dance ended and Bruce disengaged elegantly from his bride. "Now, if you'll excuse me, darling," he said tenderly, before he leaned in to kiss her lips, sensually, just once. Selina shivered a little and kissed back. "Don't be long?" Her voice was plaintive, it was visible in just the way her lips twitched. "I'm only stepping away a moment," he assured her before he kissed her again, deeply, and squeezed her in his arms.

In the corridor, Alfred was waiting. "Trouble downtown," he informed Bruce Wayne under his breath.

Moments later, down in the batcave, it was Batman that Alfred was briefing. A hostage situation, six people held by the Penguin, and possibly Joker involvement. Batman's low rumble did not seem pleased.

"They picked their night," Bruce Wayne said as he hopped into the Bat-Mobile. "They'll regret it."

* * *

It was hours since Bruce had left the reception. In the nuptial suite, Selina was standing in a white negligee. She'd put on her garters, the sexy J-String that split her buttocks and rounded them perfectly, the cute lacy bra and the white over-gown that was entirely see-through.

And she had waited, and waited. She had married Bruce because she wanted to – he'd been there every step of the way, ever since that singular accident, ever since she'd forgotten who she was.

The grey cat sauntered over from the other balcony, purring, and nudged at her leg with his head. She sighed and curled into the chair, outside. Selina lit a cigarette and blew a long plume of smoke up in the air.

"I wonder what's keeping my husband, kitty," she murmured as she caressed the cat who was now purring loudly on her lap. "It's too bad, really. I'd made so many beautiful plans for him, tonight..."

But oh, he was not getting any tonight, no matter how late he came home, that was certain. Instead, she'd kept the new vase Alfred had installed in the room, just for Bruce.

No-one ditched Selina Kyle. Not even the Batman.


End file.
